


History of a Man

by Bullets_and_Brew



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullets_and_Brew/pseuds/Bullets_and_Brew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stories from the life of Director Veld Dragoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spring of 1952

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place when Veld is fourteen. After his father's death in a Corel mine, him and his mother moved to Midgar, which was still comprised of small towns at this time.
> 
> The church mentioned at the end is Aerith's church.

Life in the villages was dull for those unoccupied and despite Veld’s best efforts, there wasn’t much a fourteen year old could do, at least, that was legal. Back home in Corel, children as young as ten were sent into the coal mines; of course they died young usually but at least they were busy. Here, there were no jobs for the young unless you were an apprentice; some children went to one of the tiny schools if their parents could afford the extra gil and apparently his mother could not.

The older boys usually joined either a gang or they joined the militia who was constantly trying to keep the gangs in order but Veld wasn’t old enough for that just yet…one more year. He already had his eye on one of the bigger groups, The Blue Zoloms; they were always neat in their gray blue uniforms and black belts and berets and it was said that their fighting skills were top notch. However, Veld had his doubts on whether they’d allow him to join or not…he was just a short kid who got beat up a lot…

It wasn't until the spring of that year, that Veld was lucky enough to find a part time job at a local repair shop running errands and doing odd jobs, enough to earn him a little pocket change to, if nothing else, keep decent shoes on his feet. It seemed to him that all his mother’s prostitution money went into things that were not for him.

The downside to the job, however, was the other boy who worked there, Howard. Howard was sixteen and usually had a air of entitlement floating over his head as he flinched pastries and pocketed spare change; the two of them did not get along from the start.

"Hey molerat, are your eyes so pale because you were born underground?"

It was the end of the day and Veld was on his way home, until he was stopped by Howard and some of his friends, who stood blocking his path.

"Ya know, I don’t think you deserve any of the money the old man pays you. That money should be mine."

Veld stood quietly, not listening to what was being said, just waiting, patient and calm; he was out numbered and out-sized and he was no fool…there was no point in going off and getting pounded.

"Hey! I’m talking to you." His silence and lack of acknowledgment irritated Howard, just like it did every day and he stepped forward, giving Veld a shove.

Gray eyes flickered up to the older boy and still he held his tongue, taking a deep, calming breath as he did so.

"I heard something about your mom from one of my boys here. What was it you said?" Howard glanced back over his shoulder at the group of leering boys.

A grubby, freckled boy stepped forward, hands in his pockets, “That she yowls like a cat in heat.”

The faintest darkening in Veld’s eyes went unnoticed, despite Howard’s sudden close proximity, “And I heard, that she pants like a bitch when you’re scre—”

The sentence went unfinished when Veld’s fist collided with Howard’s nose and while he was screaming and holding his face, Veld sprinted off a good distance and then stood and watched, waiting, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes as dark as storm clouds; this was going to end now…no one talked about his mother like that, even if she had become a prostitute.

"Get! GO AFTER HIM." Howard finally yelled and Veld scowled. He didn’t want all of them…just Howard.

As the group charged him, he turned and scampered down a narrow street, twisting and turning around buildings until the group was suitably lost; one of the benefits of being smaller than your enemy…evasion was much easier. Relocating Howard was an easy task, his curses could be heard for several blocks and Veld bolted for him, sliding out onto the wider street a short ways from him. Upon seeing him, the older boy snarled and spat blood as he grabbed a wrench from a truck that was parked and started stalking towards Veld.

"When I’m done with you. I’m going to go find your mom…"

Veld looked around for a weapon and stepped a few steps sideways to pick up a jagged rock, then straightened, jaw clenched, body coiled and ready to spring.

"…and I’m going to screw her raw with your blood on my hands!"

Howard was almost on top of him now and swinging the wrench with intent to kill but Veld ducked and bolted down an alley, Howard in hot pursuit; he led the older boy around and around until he was panting and backed into a dead end, sweat mixing with the blood on his face.

"You couldn’t screw anyone raw with your stamina." Veld said quietly, mindful of the wrench.

"I’ll screw both of your lifeless corpses!" Howard yelled, charging him.

A sidestep, a swing and the satisfying crunch of rock against jaw. Howard staggered for a moment before coming around and throwing the wrench, catching Veld full on the knee and dropping him to his other knee with a curse. A second later, a boot thudded into his chest and he fell back, grunting as a second crunched into his ribs; the world seemed to spin for a moment as pain flooded his system before adrenaline kicked in. Howard loomed over him, sneering as Veld slipped his hand into his pocket and slid the box cutter into his sleeve.

"Not so tough now are you, you little bitch." Howard’s hand grabbed him by the front of the shirt and yanked him up, spitting in his face.

Charcoal eyes closed as Veld slashed the box cutter at whatever was close, which happened to be a meaty thigh and he was dropped instantly; he took no hesitation in attacking the unprotected head that was now at his height with his rock. Howard screamed as blow after blow rained down on him and he fell, curling up with his hands over his head, trying to protect himself; for Veld, it was releasing as years of hidden anger and frustration boiled out with each strike splattering blood on the walls. He was on Howard’s side now, hammering down on his hands until they fell away, broken and mangled and minutes passed before he paused, panting and blood splattered.

The darkness cleared away from the edges of his vision and he focused on the older boy, or what was left; the face and head were a bloody disfigurement that no longer resembled a human. A muscle twitch scared Veld and he struck again, lashing out with a scream before he threw the rock away and ran, ran until his lungs felt ready to burst and he fell to his bruised knee and sobbed.

It was late night when he finally woke and drug himself upright with a soft groan. A glance around once his head cleared showed that he was on the outskirts and that it had rained, as testified the red mud that now clung to him; turning, he limped back towards the town and out the other side, heading for a different village. He wanted his mother…wanted her to sooth his hurts and tell him it was going to be okay, like she had when he was little…but that mother was gone and she would be busy.

Instead, his feet led him to the steps of a newly built church in the next town over and it was on one of the pews that the priest found him the next morning.


	2. 1953

A year had passed since Veld had beat Howard to death; there had been a small investigation by the militia but nothing serious...one boy just didn't matter that much and he hadn't had any family. Veld stayed away from the town for several months though, doing odd jobs here and there between the towns and after his fifteenth birthday that spring, he returned to the shabby house he vaguely referred to as home.

It was late and his mother had just returned home from the brothel when he stepped inside, pausing in the doorway when he saw her; for some reason, he hadn't expected her to be there and it startled him, although not as much as her appearance. Since they had left Corel, he had clung to the image of his mother his five year old self had known, the gentle mother who always made good meals and tucked him in at night, who somehow made a garden grow in the poor Corel soil and always smiled when he brought home some straggly dog or cat. When they had moved and she had taken on different jobs, he kept that image, somehow turning a blind eye to what was happening; but now he saw it clearly.

He saw the sunkeness of her cheeks that were colored with blush, tired eyes and the fine wrinkles, the needle tracks on her arms that she tried to cover with the sleeves of a fake silk haori, brightly colored. He saw and it shook him to his core.

As the door creaked shut behind him, she turned, startled, then gave a gasp. "Veld...I thought..." she trailed off brokenly and took the few steps across the uneven floor to him, embracing him tightly. 

Somehow, he noticed, he was still shorter than she was and he pushed her away before she could kiss him, choking on the smell of cheap perfume, sex, and cigarettes. "I'm sorry momma...I had to leave. Didn't think you'd notice."

She was only in her thirties but she looked older, Veld noticed as he bent to slip his boots off and neatly hung his jacket up; he already wanted to leave...this place didn't really feel like home anymore.

"You didn't think I'd notice my baby boy not being here? I...I didn't at first but after the third week I knew something was wrong. Where have you been?"

"Away. Working. I'm fifteen now...I'm going to try to join the militia." Then you won't have to be concerned at all. Gray eyes watched her in silence, waiting for a reply that never came...she seemed to have forgotten he was there as she set about making a cup of tea and removing her make-up, so with an ache in his heart, he turned, pulled his jacket and boots back on and disappeared back into the night.

The next day, he found a job at a construction site.

The hard labor set well with him and he focused wholly on the tasks given him, no matter what it was. The bullying from the men he ignored, in the year he'd been gone he had gotten a firm grip on his temper, vowing he'd never kill someone out of anger and he'd accepted he'd always be short, getting mad about it wouldn't make him any taller. At the end of the day, he'd slowly trudge back to the boarding house he stayed at, always lingering on the way in front of the regional Blue Zolom's headquarters. He didn't know why he hadn't stopped in yet and asked if he could join...fear of rejection, he supposed.

That summer was hot, especially for the towns that were on the edge of the flats where no ocean breeze reached; in fact, it was so hot that the supervisor made them all quit in the heat of the day and work at night, when it was cool. Throughout the two months Veld had been working there, the harassment and bullying never really stopped, there was always something they found to jab at him for and he'd come close to quitting on more than one occasion and on that summers morning, tempers were as hot as the weather.

They were taking a fifteen minute break to re-hydrate when one of the older teenagers slapped his water bottle from his hands, getting a chuckle from the other men as they all sat in the shade. Veld always took note of who laughed and there was one man who never did, his name was Bruno and he never took part of the bullying but also never did anything to stop it, despite his massive size.

"Pick it up."

Steely eyes looked up at the older boy and then down at his water bottle, before he slowly bent to grab it; he already knew what was coming and was braced for the steel toed boot when it thudded into his stomach. Almost on cue, he gave a grunt and went down, bracing against the next blow with an expression of patient suffering and mild annoyance. Two more kicks and he'd be done, the men would have their fill of laughter and he could go back to what he was doing; it hurt like hell of course and his ribs were constantly bruised but anymore he found he could just ignore it. Ignore it and wait. But the third kick never came and he opened his eyes to see why, to find Bruno standing over him, silent and glowering. Slowly the other boy backed away, proving that he did have some intelligence and once he was gone, a big hand lowered and pulled Veld up.

"Why don't you ever fight back?" he asked, as Veld dusted himself off and wiped the dirt from his water bottle.

Veld looked up at him in silence, words like 'I don't need your help' flitting through his mind, but none of them were ever spoken, choosing instead to make a proper answer. "I lost my temper once with a guy like him...and I swore I'd never do it again."

The next day at the end of the day shift, Bruno followed Veld out and stopped him on the street. "Listen. I've been watching you since you joined and there's something about you kid. After what you said yesterday...I made up my mind."

"About what." It was sweltering and Veld's temper was short as beads of sweat trickled down his face; he didn't want to stand here, he wanted to go take a cold shower and lay mostly naked on his cot.

"To try and recruit you for the militia."

"....You're a Zolom? Why are you working then?" Gray eyes had darkened in a moment of excitement before suspicion set in.

Bruno gave a laugh and started walking down the street, expecting Veld to follow, "I have a lot of siblings to help take care of, so I work part time. You have a lot of good qualities I think...you'd do well in the militia."

It was hard for Veld to open up; he'd never had a friend in all his fifteen years and kind words and a helping hand were foreign to him but he tried to accept without being a jerk, "I've...wanted to join but I wasn't sure how to go about doing it. Do you think they'd let me in?"

"I'm recruiting you, of course they would. I'll help you if you really want to join. Benefits are great...hot showers, good food and plenty of it, good beds to sleep on, barracks style but if you've been living in a boarding house, you're used to that."

Veld listened in silence as they walked and before he knew it, they were standing outside the regional headquarters and Bruno was asking him if he wanted to come in and speak to the commanding officer. Suddenly, he was a little nervous; he'd wanted to join for years and now he was old enough to finally do so...and he'd be recruited. His reply took a minute to make but when he did, it was with a nod and suddenly they were inside and he was being introduced to the commanding officer.

"I trust your judgment, Bruno...although he doesn't look like much. Here, have him fill out the papers." The C.O wasn't a mean looking man, just honest with a scarred face and easy going blue eyes that Veld found himself trusting in but as he was handed the papers and a pen, a stab of nervousness went through him.

"I..." he protested as Bruno sat him down, drawing a curious look from the big man.

"Is something wrong?"

Veld swallowed hard, staring at the papers, "I canna read.."

"Is that all?" Bruno gave a chuckle as he sat down beside Veld, "We have guys come in occasionally who can't read and write. I'll read them out to you and write the answers, alright?"

While Bruno took down Veld's answers, he took the time to take a better look at the big man; he'd never paid him much attention mainly because he'd never really made himself known. A second look told Veld that he wasn't nearly as old as he'd originally thought, no more than twenty two at least. Big square face could have been cruel but was graced with a constant gentle smile that softened deep set blue eyes. Light brown hair was kept neat and short and his clothes, despite being work clothes were well tended to and Veld could see the care that went into the patches that adorned his knees. He was as broad as he was tall and Veld knew of his strength from the construction site, both of his shoulders and his hands, big rough hands that could crush a man's head if their owner took the notion but Veld had a feeling such a notion wouldn't easily cross his mind.

Soon the paperwork was filled out and Bruno handed it over to the C.O, giving Veld an encouraging smile, "We're not busy here, so tomorrow you'll probably know something, alright?"

Awkwardly, Veld nodded and stood and after a moment of uncertainty, he pushed his hand out towards the giant, “See you at work then?”

The large hand engulfed his own and Bruno gave a bright smile, “At work.”

And with that, Veld quietly scuttled out of the building and to the boarding house.

The next day, Bruno gave him news that he had been accepted into the Midgar Zoloms and at the end of the day, Veld handed in his resignation to his supervisor and then nearly ran to the boarding house to gather his few possessions, eagerly looking forward to a semi decent bed, actual food, and, best of all, a hot shower. The boarding house showers were cold, when they worked at all and more than once Veld had cleaned up at someone's garden hose.

Under the training and steady, semi ridged routine that the Zolom's offered, Veld happily flourished, throwing himself into hand to hand combat training and quickly becoming a worthy opponent of the older, more seasoned members. Once he was sixteen, he was allowed to learn how to shoot and carry a side arm on patrols and in that area he stayed steadily in the middle of the grades; hand to hand was what he excelled at. 

Despite being quiet and a little shy at first, he quickly gathered a small group of friends to him who often put him in the leadership position, an area he felt under-qualified to be in, but no one agreed with him on it. His steadiness, easy going attitude, and silent attention to what people were doing made him easy to talk to and to trust; he was well liked by both older and younger members, his commanding officer not withstanding.

“Heya, Veld?”

It was mid evening and most of the men who weren't on duty had gone out to the ocean to seek out a cool breeze, but Veld had remained behind, his nose in a book; ever since he had learned to read, he had devoured stacks of books on every subject he could find. Once he had finished the page he was on, he set the book aside and looked up inquisitively at the young man with the red mohawk (Zolom dress codes said nothing about regulatory hair styles).

“Yeah?”

Mix, his real name was unknown, sat down with an unusually subdued expression, chewing his lip as his crest waved gently with his slight body movements. “I got a chick pregnant. I dunno what to do...”

Veld shifted and folded his legs, thinking; at sixteen the only female encounters he'd had were with the violent street girls when he was younger and now he was much too involved with guns, patrols, and training to be interested or concerned with members of the female sex. However, there had to be a sensible answer he could give his friend that didn't rely on any knowledge of the matter at hand.

“Well...do you love her?”

“What? No! It was just a one night stand. She said she was on the pill.”

Gray eyes gave Mix a steady, disapproving look, “And you believed her?”

Mix was several years older than Veld, but he still shrank under the gaze, looking away with a forced laugh, “Yeah, I guess that was pretty stupid, wasn't it...”

“Yeah. A bit.” Veld replied dryly. “Is she wanting gil from you? If it was just one night, what's the problem?”

“No, she's not. She just sent me a message through a friend that she was.”

Veld fell silent for a moment and Mix fidgeted his thumbs uncomfortably. After a while, Veld spoke, “How can she be sure it's yours? I should think that girls like that...probably have slept with more than one man.”

Mix just shrugged, “She said it was mine.”

“Well...if she's not wanting any gil from you and she's not demanding to get married or anything, don't worry about it. When she has the baby, go round and look at it and if it's as ugly as you, you'll know it's yours.”

Veld grinned at his friend and gave his shoulder a shove; Mix shoved back and they ended up on the floor, wrestling like little boys and a few minutes later, Mix's twin brother, Max, and Bruno joined in on the fun. It ended in a childish pillow fight and a great deal of laughter.


	3. 1955

Three years had passed since Veld had joined the Blue Zoloms and at seventeen, he was an officer, in charge of his own patrol with his own section of the city to watch over. Bruno, Mix, and Max were his closest and best friends, and along with four others, they made up the 12th Patrol Squad, a somewhat formidable group that raced fearlessly after breakers of the law and brought criminals to justice. 

It was a hot, breathless summer evening and the eight members of the 12th were spread out around a run down, abandoned motel. A three months ago, Veld's team had been given the assignment of tracking down the whereabouts of young girls who had been going missing recently and now they were closing their net around the prey. All leads ran to this motel, a stop over place for the girls before they were shipped off to the brothels in the mining towns and Junon.

As they waited in the oppressive heat, a battered van chugged up to the motel and two men came out of one of the rooms and stood smoking as they van backed up. Veld quivered with anticipation but shook his head in a silent negative to the rest of his team who were waiting across the street for his signal. The timing wasn't right yet and he knew his team were all as keyed up as he was. So they waited and watched; four girls were shoved out of the van and across the few feet of pavement to the room, then shoved inside. Gray eyes narrowed as gil changed hands between the van driver and the other men and as soon as it had, Veld made the signal.

He knew that the only girl on the team, stationed on top of a building had been taking pictures of the whole transaction, per his orders, so there would be plenty of evidence; had they moved in too soon, before gil changed hands, they wouldn't have gotten their photographic evidence. So it was with a grin that he aimed his 9mm pistol and shot the legs out from under the van driver ( they had orders not to kill anyone ), and then with a rush and hail of bullets the 12th Unit descended on the motel with a fury. The long wait was over, the months of gathering evidence, slinking around on surveillance, interrogating people, it all culminated with a roar. Quickly they spread out and in twos, they cleared the rooms, immobilizing hostiles as they went. On the upper floor, one lunged out of his hiding spot and cracked Veld with a glancing blow to the head and Veld fell to his knee for a second, blinking as blood poured into his eyes, faintly aware of a muzzle being pressed to the top of his head.

“You might take us down, you bastard...but not before I take some of you with us.”

Glancing up, Veld noticed a detonator in the man's free hand and idly wondered if he'd really do it... if he'd really push the button and send them all to the Lifestream, the kidnapped girls included. It seemed an awful big risk on his part and Veld chose to call his bluff. He bunched like a snake, swiftly moved his other leg under him and lunged forward, slamming his head into the man's solar plexus and bearing him into a wall. Reflexively the gun was fired and Veld felt the sear of the bullet as it grazed his back and then thudded into the floor behind him. They struggled for a moment, both landing good hits and Veld twisted the man's pistol from his grip and tossed it down the hall. The man got a hold of his windpipe, fingers digging it around it in a powerful effort to throttle him; the man was stronger than he was, Veld was finding, but Veld had the limitless stamina and speed of youth on his side and he quickly put them both to use, pounding the craggy face mercilessly, despite the choking grip on his throat.

Everything was turning to a red haze as he fought for oxygen and fought to control his temper, flashes of memory coming to the forefront, of beating Harold to death. His blows were weakening but he still continued to rain them down; he could feel the wetness of blood on his hands and could smell it in the air, but he couldn't see a thing. Suddenly, just as he started to struggle to get free in a mindless panic, he felt a presence behind him and heard a loud snap followed by a scream as the hand at his throat fell away and he toppled backwards. Large hands caught him and dragged him to the side and he knew Bruno had come to his rescue. Veld doubled over onto the floor and retched and gasped, trying to draw precious air into his lungs; to one side, he heard a wet crack and then the man's screaming was no more. Bruno had snapped his neck.

“Bruno...” Veld wheezed, “Mix....explosives...” He convulsively shook himself in a large spasm and drew a great breath of air in, shaking his head. His vision was starting to come back but it was still hazy and he nearly had a heart attack when Bruno swung him over his shoulder.

“Mix is on the bottom level. He'll ferret any explosives out. You shouldn't have kept going without me.” The reprimand was gentle but it still stung a little and Veld clung to the giant's shirt, feeling like his brain was going to come out his nose.

“Let me down... I can walk...” 

Carefully Bruno lowered him to the floor and kept a hand on his shoulder until he was standing firmly and together they made their way downstairs. By the time they reached the ground floor, Veld could see and breath properly again and he quickly barked out orders.

“Call the medical teams in and get these girls out here and somewhere safe. Mix, there's explosives somewhere in this building. Goon upstairs was packing a detonator. Take your brother and find them, now. The rest of you, finish clearing the upstairs.”

Once those orders had been issued, he put a call into headquarters for vans to come pick up the wounded and handcuffed kidnappers. They had rounded up ten in all, not including the one Bruno had killed, and managed to keep twenty five missing girls from disappearing forever. The girls were taken to a hospital and treated, questioned, and identified, then their families were called to come see them.

“I'd say it was a good day.” Veld said, looking at his team as they watched the tearful and joyful reunion later on, after everything had been cleaned up.

“I just wish we had been able to get the others...the ones that are already gone..” Match said quietly.

The team fell silent until Veld yelped as the nurse treated his bullet graze too roughly and they all broke out in laughter at his expense, but it didn't last long as their Commander came in.

“Good job boys. As soon as you're done here though, you need to come straight back. There's some serious news that's come up..”

So it was with silent and concerned faces that they assembled in the gym with the rest of their section's Units and listened to what their Commander had to say. The Blue Zolom's were being disbanded, at the City of Midgar's orders and a state military was being brought in to do their job. Apparently the powers that be felt uncomfortable with such a powerful and well run militia running about the city, but they had acknowledged the good job they had all done and if any member of the Zolom's wanted to join the new military police, they would be given special preference.

They came away from the meeting with a more concerned expression than what they had gone in with; many of them, like Veld, had no home, no family, and no where to go. The Zoloms had been their home and family for many years and now that sense of stability was crumbling. By the time they reached the barracks, chatter had broken out, quiet disputes and arguments, heated discussions. One young man, a newer member, sat down on his bed and started to cry. Bruno, Mix, and Max all looked at Veld as they reached their bunks and waited; he had been quiet the walk back and he had a preoccupied look on his face as the noise around them climbed. Finally, he climbed on top of the top bunk and stood.

“Hey! Everyone listen!”

The ones closest to him went quiet and looked up, but the rest went on until Bruno stood and shouted, his powerful voice rattling the windows. Now, with everyone's attention on him, Veld swallowed hard and blushed slightly.

“You're all saying that this is the end, that you don't know what you'll do now. Just because the government is disbanding the Zoloms, it doesn't mean they're going to keep us from being friends or seeing each other. It just means that all the militia groups can't continue to operate.”

Arguments started to break out again and Veld held his hands up, “Listen!” he grabbed a newspaper from beside him and held it up. “The Mythril and Coral Mines are being fought over by warlords and production has come to a stop. The miners are rioting because they have no work and people are going hungry. They've put out a plea for help and are willing to pay for that help. If we can't be militia, we can be something else. I know the word mercenary doesn't bring up any good connotations... but we can pick our jobs. We can still help the people of Gaia, just like we've been doing.”

The room was quiet as his words sank in and he looked down at his team, silently asking if they had his back. Bruno looked at Mix and Max and they all nodded, “We're with you, Veld. You've been our leader for two years now and we trust you. If you go to the mines, we're going with you.”

Veld smiled his thanks and looked back up at the room, “I'm not saying anyone has to follow me and I'm not saying I want to be the leader of a mercenary group. I'm just saying that we have options and that we can stay together.”

He didn't know what else to say and everyone seemed to be mulling his words over, so he slid down from the bunk and sat heavily on his own, “I felt I had to do something...” he said, as if apologizing.

“It's a grand idea.” Max said, as he and his brother sat, one on each side of Veld, “And it will give everyone something to think about. This isn't the end. The end of one thing, yes, but the start of something different.”

And so, a month later, the former Blue Zoloms met again as a mercenary group, the Black Devils. A large portion of them, had, however, went and joined the military but those that were left stuck together tightly and twenty of them, the remnants of Veld's 12th Unit included, headed to help out with the mining war.


End file.
